


A Date with Fate

by dreamii



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Confrontation, Discovery, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Guilt, oops i did it again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-03-29 06:57:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13921758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamii/pseuds/dreamii
Summary: Was it even possible to feel this hopeless?((CONTINUATION OF http://archiveofourown.org/works/13240467/chapters/30286404 ))





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is just for fun. there will probably be a bunch of timeskips (because im too lazy to write out a full actual story and I want to get to the good stuff), but I really wanted to touch on /reader's experience in the LOTD, ernesto's thoughts about what happened, and maybe some resolution to the story.

He had given her many chances to simply accept the fact that he was, indeed, a great man. Because he was. Ernesto de la Cruz was a wonderful man, and everyone in all of Mexico-- no. Everyone in the whole WORLD knew it.

_So why didn't she think so?_

Throughout the entirety of the date, he could sense (yn)'s suspicions of him, and this was quite infuriating. However, he knew that ALL women (or at least, the many he had slept with in the past) would simply melt in his touch; therefore, he had the intentions of sleep with (yn), to simply to prove to her that again, he was simply wonderful.

_So why wouldn't she accept his advances?_

It was simply mind-boggling. No woman had ever treated him the way she did. He thought for a moment that perhaps she was simply unexperienced, given how young she must have been, so playing some music would have eased her worries. But yet again, that didn't work, nothing did! It was as if she simply grew bored of him! Or maybe... Ernesto remembers back to when he noticed his journal- well, Hector's- had been misplaced. (Yn)'s doing, no doubt.

That was when he realized she would have been a threat to his entire career, and all he had fought for! In a state of panic, he wondered, _what do I do?!_ She would surely tell everyone she knew about her experience and what she discovered! No body would love him anymore! And he'd be... _alone_. Completely and utterly alone.

Oh, he didn't want to kill her. He truly didn't, and as he shifted through an old box cluttered with random parchment to pull out a small bottle of poisonous liquid, he knew that he needed to give her another chance. And he did, perhaps a little too eagerly, of course.

His hands ran up and down her body hungrily as he tried to free the girl of her dress, so he could see just how beautiful she was for him. She pushed her hands against him but, oh, that only  _fueled_ the lust he had felt from their first meeting in her father's cantina. She was so incredibly breath-taking, and he needed to know if the rest of her was just as divine...

But the stupid girl refused and in a moment of terror for his future, he went to prepare the poisoned shot for her.

_And the stupid girl drank it._

For the next few nights leading up to a performance in a nearby city, Ernesto refused to go out to mingle with fans. An awful feeling of guilt churned in his stomach that never seemed to pass no matter how much he drank.

He had even begun to remember of Hector once again, dearest Hector whom he had almost completely blocked from his mind. He felt like he was going insane.

A couple years went by as Ernesto's fame only increased. He was the biggest man in all of Mexico. And never did he inform (yn's) family of what had happened. Obviously, he wasn't about to go and confess the murder. But the man literally could not bring himself to think of a lie to cover it up. So, he left the little town where (yn's) family would cluelessly go on about their lives. How they interpreted (yn's) sudden disappearance, Ernesto would never know. 

There was one day, however, when he was retiring from an evening gala, a ridiculous event dedicated to celebrities like himself and their massive egos. A letter had been delivered to him, from a fan no doubt. As he read it, all colour left his face.

" _Senor de la Cruz,_

_My name is Cecilia Arguello. I am 16 years old from _Puerto Vallarta. I am writing this to you because my family is very sad. They have been sad for four years now, because four years ago, my big sister (yn) abandoned us to be with you. We haven't seen her since. We lost the cantina last year and my mom and dad are very depressed. They hate you and are very mad at her because they think you convinced her that we aren't important. Mi familia have given up searching for her, but I don't want to stop because I know she's out there somewhere. Maybe not with you, but somewhere. I need to see my big sister again.__

__I understand you are a very busy man, but if you could please write back and tell me where she is or what happened to her, I would be very happy._ _

__Cecilia"_ _

Ernesto's heart thundered in his chest as he slowly crumpled up the paper in his fist. That sickening feeling attacked him once again as he dragged himself to sit on the edge of a bed. Perhaps it was just the wine, but he really did feel like throwing up. And he did. Over, and over again. A security guard tasked with standing outside his room tapped on the door and asked if he was alright, to which he called back, "Just the wine, mi amigo," 

Slowly, Ernesto collected himself, standing in front of the bathroom mirror. He wiped his mouth and smoothed his hair back as he formulated a plan of action in his hazy mind. Ernesto was, believe it or not,  _very_ good at thinking quick on his feet and using his influence to his advantage.

Quickly, the man got out a piece of paper and a pen and began to scribble words down.

" _Senora Cecilia,_

_I am very sorry to hear what happened to your family! But rest assured that your big sister is doing just fine. You must already know that she does not usually join me for my performances or in public, but I can confirm that, that is because she is travelling the world! We do, however, keep in touch quite often via telephone. In fact, after receiving your letter, I called her and she asked me to tell you that she loves you and your family, and requested that I write a cheque for your familia._

_I know not where she is currently because I did not ask, but please tell your madre and padre that she is okay._

_Sincerely,_

_Ernesto de la Cruz"_

And with that letter he attached a cheque for 7000 pesos, slipping it all into an envelope with the address that Cecilia's note had been sent from. He never heard back from Cecilia, but Ernesto reassured himself that they had accepted it.

More months would pass.

Hook ups with women were different now. As he'd hover overtop the gentle, frail being beneath who would gush her fondness of him as if he hadn't heard it all before, all he could see was (yn) and nothing more. Sometimes, he'd see Hector too, and it killed him inside. But he was _okay_. He was the greatest musician of all time, and no one but he knew of what happened! People still adored him, and that's all that mattered. He'd smile out to the wooing crowds, exclaiming joyed, "Gracias, my familia!"s as he basked in the warmth of the spotlight. The world was his family, so why should he worry about the loss of two members?

The day of his untimely death, Ernesto was well into his 40s and proud of how much he had accomplished. The deaths of Hector and (yn) were simply roadblocks for him he realized, and he overcame them both. He was thriving. And as he hit his final note of "Recuerdame", a snapping sound erupted from above him.

Ernesto didn't look up, but perhaps he should have.

 

**

**1 Week after Your Death**

“Sorry, dear, I can’t seem to find you in the system…” The woman frowned as she shook her head at the list. “Did you just get here?”

“I GOT HERE A WEEK AGO!” You cried, throwing your skeletal arms up in the air. “That magic list isn’t telling us the truth! Only LIES!” The woman stared up at you with a bored look. This clearly wasn’t her first rodeo with panicked new-residents to the Land of the Dead. “Well, then, that explains it. Your familia hasn’t found out you’re dead. Enjoy your stay here. NEXT!”

“BUT I-”

“NEXT!”

With a huff, you spun around and stormed out of the office, skirts flailing around your ankles at the sharp movement. You had somehow come to terms with the idea that you were dead. Food poisoning. On a date with Ernesto de la Cruz. You were so incredibly embarrassed at this.  _So incredibly embarrassed._ Well. To be honest, nothing could really top the awfulness that was their date. He was very charming, perhaps a little TOO charming. But none of that mattered now. 

You moved to go sit on a bench, hopeless and alone. You didn't even know where to start when it came to finding other deceased family members. There were... so many people here already. None of it mattered. Was it cruel to hope that Cecilia would die soon and join her? All you wanted was to hold her and tell her everything was okay. You could feel tears prick your eyes (was that even possible?).

None of this felt real to you, this world, these people from all different generations, and maybe it never would.  _But then again, I have all of eternity to get used to this._ You think. _Cecilia and mom and dad and everyone else will get here one day. Either way, they need to figure out that I'm dead sooner or later, right?_

Once they realized you were dead, they'd put your photo up in remembrance and you'd be able to cross that... marigold bridge and see them!  _Please, please figure it out soon._

You sniffle and dab your eyes with the hem of your dress, starting to feel like an idiot for being so dressed up when everyone else here looked normal. 

"Excuse me, senora? I was wondering if you could help me out..." Suddenly, a figure was standing in front of you. Squinting through the tears, you look up. 

"F... Frida... Kahlo?..." You stutter. You didn't expect Frida to have such a... slightly masculine voice?

"Yes. It is I, Frida Kahlo. And I am in need of some VERY serious help! Would you like to help me, dear fellow woman?" Frida batted her eyelashes, causing you to cringe slightly. "Um... sure?"

"Perfecto! Come quickly beforetheyfindus!" Grabbing your arm, Frida yanked you forwards, dodging people big and small as she dragged you as quickly as possible- to a storage room. Dios mio. This was it. You were going to be harassed in the Land of the Dead, by Frida Kahlo. You sniffle as you remember the pathetic fact that it had barely been two weeks since you got here.

Frida shoved you inside and quickly shut the door behind the both of you. "Listen, I don't have any money on me and quite frankly, I don't even know where to GET money-"

"Let me stop you right there, chica." In one swift action, Frida Kahlo ripped her eyebrow off with barely a wince. Absolutely horrified and confused as to what the hell was going on, you open your mouth to scream, but you were quickly cut off as a hand covered your mouth.

"Be quiet! You'll get us caught! Okay, okay. Chica, I'm not actually Frida Kahlo." The impersonator confessed, gently removing his hand from your mouth after a few seconds.  

"Yeah, I figured that out when you ripped the unibrow off..." You wheeze. The man, who couldn't have been more than 20, gave a toothy grin and bowed his head. "So, are you saying you really thought I was Frida?" He quirked a brow.

You assumed this guy didn't have much success with his impersonation, so you ignored the question. "What do you want."

Visually deflated, the impersonator clasped his hands together. "You arrived here recently, yeah? Well... You see, I'm in a bit of a pickle... I soooort of need to really get across the bridge to see mi familia! My beautiful wife and my beautiful daughter... I _really_ must see them. It's been... over 15 years, I don't know, I lost count after a while. " 

A soft gasp escapes your mouth. That long? He hadn't seen his family for  _that_ long? Suddenly, all hopes of ever seeing your family soon faded, and with it, the light from your eyes as you hugged yourself, nodding at him to continue.

He did, however, realize that he had struck a chord in you that ran deep and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. You notice his bones were tinted a slight yellowish colour, most likely dirt and grime. "I need you to go speak to the admissions office and tell them that the both of us have families who miss us, and we need to get across."

"What makes you think I'm like you? Maybe my family has already set up an ofrenda." You scoff. 

The man's soft gaze doesn't falter. "Because I was exactly like you when I first came here. It was just a hunch, but, I swear I just had this... feeling that you were going through exactly what I've been going through for years. Maybe if we start a... a riot or something! Then they'll HAVE to let us get across!" 

Although it seemed that all hope was lost in seeing your family again, there was something almost comforting about knowing that there was another person here who was currently experiencing the same thing as you. You give him a small smile. His plan  _really_ seemed stupid, but at this point, what else could they do? "Okay."

"Woo-hoo! Ahahah... wow. No one has... ever agreed to do this with me before. Huh." The man slowly sat down on a wooden crate and furrowed his brow in thought. "Well, I suppose we'll have to actually put our brilliant minds together to create a fool-proof plan! Hey, what's your name? I'm Hector. Hector Rivera. I'm a- well. I  _WAS_ a musician." He held out a hand sheepishly.

"Oh, uh, I'm (yn) Arguello. I worked at a cantina and I dance. Wait, you don't have a plan?" You shook his hand.

"(yn)! It's nice to meet you. I like your dress, you sort of look like a princess." Hector tapped his chin, and it was clear he deliberately avoided your question.

"What's the plan?"

"Seen any good movies lately?"

"The plan."

"Huh, never heard of that one..."

"Hector, what is the plan?!"

"I DON'T KNOW! Okay?!" He threw his hands up into the air before burying his face in them with a groan. "I've never gotten this far. Everyone else, they all get to cross the bridge! But I don't. The stupid officers, they don't understand, they never do! So here I am, wearing this ridiculous costume. I look like a discount Frida Kahlo!"

After a few moments, you chuckle silently. "Yeah, you kind of do."

Hector looks up at you from his hands with an unimpressed look. 

You sigh. "Alright, it's okay, we want to do a riot, right? Let's make posters and, um, march around the entrance to the bridge until they get tired of our annoying voices and let us cross."

"I like the way you think, chica!" Hector stands up and pats your back. "Let's meet back in this room tomorrow with supplies. They'll never know what hit them, eh?" Without even a goodbye, the easily-excitable man bounded out from the storage room. It would have probably been smart to tell him that you weren't  _really_ being serious with that 'plan', but there was no harm in trying. You manage to slip out of the room unseen by anyone else. For the rest of the day, you couldn't wipe your smile off of you face. Maybe being dead wouldn't be so bad, especially having someone else there with you who shared your dilemma.

It would be okay.


	2. A Budding Friendship

**A little over 1 week after your death**

You spent the entire night (did those even exist here? You didn't even feel sleepy!) searching for supplies. You managed to find some pieces of poster paper and a couple markers. People down here were very nice when it came to letting you borrow things! Perhaps it was because you basically had an eternity to give them back?

As cautiously as possible, to slipped yourself through the bustling crowd of people, many of which who must have been new arrivals rushing to speak to an officer about crossing the bridge as well... When no one was looking, you open the door to the storage room and slide in. Hector was already there, arms crossed against his ribcage while he tapped his bare foot. "You're late!" He scolded.

"You... never gave me a specific time to meet, Hector," You reply as you set the materials down in front of him. You notice he had nothing with him. Straightening up, you raise a brow toward him. "Why don't you have anything."

"Eheheh... well you see... it's a funny story..."

"It's not like we're getting any older or anything." You point out. Hector groans and pinches the tip of his nasal bone. "Okay okay. None of the workers here trust me, alright? You're new and shiny, so I thought, well... you'd get supplies. And you did! Good job! Now, lets get to work. You know how to write?"

"Are you assuming I'm uneducated because I'm a girl?" 

"What?! No! Dios, no! I wouldn't- I just- It's not that... I mean you look really intelligent, and it's just that Mexico is, I'm sure, going through a rough patch and I really didn't mean-" Your giggling causes him to shut up and stare at you, flustered.

"I was joking. Yes, I know how to write. Do  _you_?" You sit down on the ground and cross your legs, reaching over to spread a piece of paper out in front of you. You grab a marker and uncap it.

"Chica, I'm a songwriter." Was all Hector said as he, too, sat down. "Okay, what should we write... How about, 'WE HAVE FAMILIES, TOO! LET US CROSS OR ELSE!'?" 

You blink. "It's very... straightforward. I really like the added threat at the end. Sure." You shrug and write it down word for word, in big, blocky letters. Hector beams and watches you write. "Oh, hey, chica. Something I should tell you- each of the times I've tried crossing, the guards told me their stupid system doesn't recognize my face since I have no photo on any ofrenda. But you know, I've been hypothesizing the REAL reason for this... the bridge officer must have something against me, so she is making the bridge completely uncrossable for me.

You frown at this poor man. Clearly he was  _desperate_ for any sort of answer as to why he wasn't able to cross- he was even more desperate to see his family. "What do you mean it becomes uncrossable?"

"I don't know! I've never tried crossing it. Maybe they're just trying to scare me..."

"Well... Hector... no offense, but I don't think it has anything to do with the bridge officer. Maybe... maybe we just can't cross at all because the bridge recognizes we aren't yet on an ofrenda." Slowly, you set the marker down. "Maybe our families will never know what happened to us... Maybe we'll just... never be able to cross..."

Hector simply stares at you. "No." Is all he says, and he quickly scribbles down a few words onto another piece of paper, and shoves it into your arms. "No, (yn), we are  _not_ going to lose hope now. Now get up and let's show them that we  _do_ have families who care about us! Up!" He grabs you by your humerus and urges you outside. You comply with a little sigh, but part of you genuinely appreciated Hector's determination. Sulking about you situation wasn't going to do anything- you had to take action, and as Ernesto would say... seize your moment! Oooh, you were  _so_ gonna tell Hector about how you died later- food poisoning after a date with Ernesto!

Once outside, the both of you watch the crowd of bustling people walk by. You glance up at Hector who looked as if he was giving himself a little peptalk, clearly nervous about what was about to happen.  

What did you have to lose?

" _WE HAVE FAMILIES TOO! DON'T DISCRIMINATE US 'CAUSE WE'RE NEW! WE HAVE FAMILES TOO! DON'T DISCRIMINATE US 'CAUSE WE'RE NEW!"_ You begin to chant at the top of your not-lungs, holding your poster high in the air to attract as much attention as possible. People began to stop and stare. You crane your head around to give Hector a grin, and he grinned back. 

" _WE HAVE FAMILIES TOO! DON'T DISCRIMINATE US 'CAUSE WE'RE NEW!_ _"_ He cried. "Wait. I'm not new-"

"Just go with it, it rhymes,  _songwriter,"_  

Giving you a playful shove as she walked past you, the two of you continued to rant as you head to the check in area- the very place that would determine whether or not you could cross the bridge. And as you marched, people stopped and stared and whispered; but you couldn't care less. There was something almost reassuring about being with Hector, another person who was in the exact same situation as you.

Finally, the both of you made it to the check in area, which was, of course, crowded. Yet for some reason, people stepped out of the way for you and Hector. Why? Did they perhaps pity our situation? Or did they want to see us fail in getting cleared to walk across the bridge? The bridge officer, a lovely looking woman, looked absolutely unimpressed as she saw the both of you approach. Hector raises a hand to silence you. "(yn), this here is Maria."

"Hector, if you don't have a photo on th-" she jumps back a little as Hector shoves the poster towards her and points to the sentence written on it.

"Maria, I know you're a bright lady, and I know you can read. What does that say?" He demands. You contemplated resting a hand on his shoulder to ease him off a bit but decide against it- you wanted to see how this would go down.

The lady- Maria- sighs. "We have families too. Let us cross, or else." she reads. "Hector. I'm sorry."

Thinking for a moment, Hector turns and pulls you in front of him. "What about her, huh? Use your fancy camera on her and see if she has a photo! Oh, wait. You'll probably just assume she doesn't, and she doesn't have a familia who loves her! Well guess what? She does. Just like you, just like me, and just like everyone else here!"

Suddenly, a blinding flash groes off in front of you, making you blink in surprise. Maria shakes her head. "Nothing. Listen, I am truly sorry, I am. Hector, you've been told this before...  _you can't get across._ "

Hector opened his mouth to counter her statement, yet no words came out. He looked down at you with a sad look, to which you said, "Let's go, Hector. We can try another time. Maybe by then our familia will have our photos up. Come on. We're holding up the line." 

"I... I have been waiting for... for  _years_ , (yn)..." Hector turns his head to stare out at the gorgeous marigold bridge. Suddenly, he clutches your wrist, making you yelp. "I've never done this before, chica! But today, we are going to show the world that  _we deserve to get across!"_

Before you and Maria could yell at him why this was an awful, terrible idea, you were yanked away. Two security guards with thick bones yelled and lunged for you, but before they could pounce, Hector grabbed you by your hips and flung you into the air as if you weighed nothing. You scream as you're thrown over both of the guards; You were regretting so much right now!

Hector, with a laugh, slid underneath the beefy men who in turn slammed into each other. Skillfully, he then caught you bridal-style and set you down beside him as the both of you continued to bolt towards the bridge.

"HECTOR THIS IS SUCH A BAD IDEA WE'RE GOING TO BE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE-" You screeched as he yanked you forwards. Hector was too focused in the moment, too focused on reaching the bridge.

And you did.

The petals felt soft underneath your shoes, and glowed shades of orange and red.  _You were on the bridge._ The two of you let out a whoop of laughter as you continue, but not even a second later, your feet begin to sink into the bridge like quicksand. It was as if the bridge had completely rid of it's solidity and you were going to slip through. Hector falls to his knees with a strained grunt as he tries to power through and so do you, yet it was nearly impossible to even stand up straight!

The two same guards, who were now both sporting twin fractures to their skulls, walked over with ease and grabbed you each with a harsh tug.

"Lo siento, (yn)... I thought it would work..." Hector mumbled as the guards drag you back to safety. 

"I know. Me too."

***

You and Hector were sitting outside of an office awaiting to hear whatever lovely fines you were going to receive for what had happened earlier. You both hadn't said a word to each other since. 

The ticking of a clock overtop the frame of the door was the only audible noise that kept things from being too awkwardly quiet.

You glance sideways at Hector, who had his head buried in his hands. "Hey." You say.

Hector doesn't move.

"Did I ever tell you how I died?"

You see him twitch, before he responds with a quiet, "No."

"It's really stupid. Wanna hear?"

Hector slowly shrugs his shoulders. You lean back in your seat and chuckle slightly at the thought of it. A week ago you'd have been crying with embarrassment over what happened, but now you realized how  _dumb_ it was! "Well. Do you know who Ernesto de la Cruz is? He's a really famous musician in Mexico. He has a concert like, every day."

As you speak, Hector slowly removed his hands from his face to peer at you as if you had sparked his interest. "So, I worked in my fathers cantina, right? One evening, he walks in with some other musicians! It was amazing- I got to speak to him, and he asked if he could take me out to dinner some time! So, obviously I said yes. So, the next day we have our 'date'. It was really... let's just say, he's a very cheesy man. So at the end he's driving me home, and I started to feel really sick. And then here I am. I died of  _food poisoning!_ " You begin to laugh at yourself, but Hector had little reaction.

"Ernesto de la Cruz?" He echoed. "I... haven't heard that name in a while."

"Oh, well, he's very popular." You were slightly disappointed Hector didn't find you death amusing- maybe laughing about death wasn't smiled upon here?

"I-I was his best friend! We performed together!" He exclaimed. You blink, "...right."

"No, I swear! I taught him everything he knows. Dios, I knew he was famous now but I didn't think he was  _that_ big of a deal... Huh... I'm... I'm proud of him." Hector sighed and looked down at the floor. There was no way this crazy man knew  _THE_ Ernesto de la Cruz, but you didn't bother nagging him about it. Hector let's out a little chuckle. "So... you died after going on a date with 'Nesto. Says a lot, eh?" 

"It was food poisoning!" You cry. Hector's laughs become slightly louder. "Ay, don't worry, chica, I'm not really making fun of you; I died of the same thing!"

"No way. Really? That's so... so stupid!" By now, the both of you were giggling and laughing at each other's demises. The shout of an officer managed to shut the both of you up, but you were still snickering.

Eventually, you got your fines. You got a warning and a week of community service, while Hector got the same- as well as an order to apologize to both the security guards. As the two of you strolled out of the office, Hector said, "So, (yn), tell me. Does Ernesto look really ugly now? I'll bet he's in his what, 40s? Is he all old and wrinkly?" He shuddered at the thought.

"No, he's actually quite handsome." You muse. 

Hector gags. "Handsome? He's old now! Gross, don't tell me you're into old men like him! You know, he could barely land himself a date when we were kids.- Ohh hold on, I get it. You're into old men who have money!" Hector smirks and nudges you with his elbow.

" _Older_ men. And no, I'm not, but what's wrong with liking a guy who's... experienced?" You ask.

"Experience with what? Trying to look all pretty for a camera?" Hector stops walking and puts his hands on his hips. 

"Experienced with... relationships and stuff. Experience with treating a lady right..." If you could, you'd be blushing by now. Hector rolls his eyes over-dramatically. "Oh please, he's no knight in shining armor, trust me. Que, why are you looking at me like that?"

"You're jealous of him! You are  _so_ jealous of him!" You smirk. Hector quickly denies these accusations, but you simply shake your head and keep walking. Finally, it seemed, being dead wouldn't be so bad. 

***

**Ernesto's arrival to the Land of the Dead (approximately 2-3 years later)**

For some reason, it was as if the entire population of the Land of the Dead knew- Ernesto De La Cruz had been killed. 

Everyone who had known about him when he was alive were in a mixture of panic and excitement. De La Cruz was here, and he would continue to share his beautiful music with them for all of eternity! 

However, things hadn't been so joyous for the man himself.

Ernesto let out a low groan that rumbled throughout the depths of his ribcage as he staggered upwards. "What... Where..."

"S-senor De La Cruz! It's an honour to meet you! Ummm... oh, yes! Welcome to the Land of the Dead!" A nervous skeleton stood in front of him with a little wave and a clipboard. Surrounding the both of them were guards and other officials, murmuring to themselves excitedly.

"The... The what? What's going on?" Ernesto croaked. He raised a hand to his forehead but paused to stare at it. It was all bone! " _What_ happened to me?!" He demanded.

"I understand this is a very confusing time for you, senor, but if you'd just let me explain a few things you'll understand!" The young man squeaked. Ernesto, who was becoming quite agitated snapped his head back and forth to stare at the other 'dead' people. This had to be a dream! He then looked down at himself- he was still wearing that same, deep blue mariachi suit!

"You were, uh, killed and now you're here for the rest of all time! But lucky for you, your death was a clean one. Some people aren't so lucky... Anyways, we have a few people here who volunteered to give you a little tour of the place, so that you're a little familiar with where you'll be staying! Agusto, Carlos?" The young man turns around and gestures for two other dead men to step forward. "These two will be giving you the tour today and will answer any questions you have! Just be careful, if you think you were famous when you were alive, just wait till you see the crowd waiting for you outside!" The people around him give a chorus of laughter. Ernesto, however, does not join in. He simply stares at the young man with furrowed brows. Slowly, he was beginning to understand. "Alright..."

"Okay, senor. When he get outside, there will be guards holding back the people so we just need to be quick getting you to the car." Carlos turned around and began to walk. Agusto moved to stand behind Ernesto as if he were precious cargo. With a shove, a door is opened and the sounds of cheering floods the room.

Hesitantly, Ernesto moves forward and stares at all the faces of the dead men and women he passes by. These dead men and women he could not recognize whatsoever. Yet, they still cheered for him as if nothing had changed, as if death was simply just a transition into something... better. 

Finally, Ernesto smiles and waves at these people who would only ever see him as the same man who once charmed them with his voice in the land of the living.

A pretty young woman calls out his name, and Ernesto glances over his shoulder towards the source of the voice. He spots the lady and squints. There was... _something_ familiar about her. But he'd might as well be saying that about a majority of people here. He was quiet excited to revisit some old friends, and other famous performers. Agusto ushers him into a strange looking black vehicle and closes the door behind him. Carlos steps into the drivers seat and makes a comment about how crazy those people were, but Ernesto doesn't hear it. He was far too busy gazing out the window at the gorgeous structures that these  _dead_ people had built. The city was so... big.

The "tour" consisted of mainly driving past certain important locations, as to keep Ernesto out of the reach of his dead fans. Carlos reassured Ernesto that in a few years, they'd probably become less clingy so that he could actually walk out in public freely. But Ernesto couldn't care less about that.

"Where will I perform?" He asks.

"Hm?" Carlos looks into the rearview mirror at him. Ernesto repeats the question as if he were speaking to a child.

"Oh, uh... Well, we have a few stages here... no one really uses them, though." Carlos shrugged. "Wherever you want I guess. "Oh, here-" Carlos breaks the car and points out the window to a plaza looking place. It was quite bare with no real buildings minus a few vendors. "This here is quite a common place for people to sell their items. It's usually not too busy so it's perfect for people who have trouble getting noticed-" 

"There." Ernesto decides.

"Hm?"

"There, I want my stage to be there." 

Carlos and Augusto exchange looks, and Augusto quickly writes something down onto a notepad. "As you wish, senor."

Before Carlos could continue driving, Ernesto squinted and peered out the window once more, up at the skyline. In the distance, there was a  _very_ large building taller than the rest, one that looked as if it were still being constructed on. "What's that?" he queried.

"Oh, that! Yes, that is very special. You see, the base of it, like most of the buildings you'll find here, are from when the Aztecs first made their journeys here. It's still being constructed, you see, but no one really knows what exactly they want to do with it. We here in the land of the dead are always trying to keep up with the ever changing land of the living. Unfortunately, no one has really started construction on making the current buildings more... well, modern." Carlos explained.

"Well then. That very building will be mine, and construction will commence right away." Ernesto leaned back in his seat with arms crossed over his chest. Once again, the two men in the seats in front of him looked at each other. 

"Are you sure, senor? I'm sure you can find something a little less.. .out in the open." Carlos suggested, and Ernesto scoffed. "If I am going to be spending my death down here, do you honestly expect me to settle for something less than spectacular? I am Ernesto de la Cruz, the greatest musician of all time. I deserve the biggest, most modern building there is!" 

Slowly, Agusto scribbled something down, "Alright, senor. We'll have a team sent out right away." 

Ernesto smiled to himself and looked back out the window at what would soon be his new home. The most modern, most advanced building in all of the land of the dead. Perhaps being dead wouldn't be so bad after all.

***

**Ernesto's arrival, your perspective**

You, like most other people, couldn't believe it. He was here. 

And his death was even more embarrassing than yours.

You were in that very crowd awaiting to watch Ernesto emerge from the area whence he arrived, praying that he would recognize you in this form. You  _desperately_ wanted to speak with him. Hector, however, did not. He decided to stay back. The two of you had formed quite a strong friendship, yet you still had no luck crossing the bridge. Three years later, and you familia  _still_ hadn't acknowledged your death. Not even Cecilia. Hector, too, had the same problem. 

Life here wasn't awful, but rather it was fun. Lots of music and food and dancing and celebrating, it was a performers dream! Both you and Hector had joined a 'band', a group of other people who didn't have photos on any ofrendas. Hector played the guitar, another person sang, and another played the drums, while you danced. It was a good way of earning money, especially in the plaza- it was almost always barren of other performers or vendors!

It was almost as if hours hd went by, before De La Cruz finally walked out of the room with two other men. Cheering commenced, and you noted how flustered Ernesto looked. Clearly, he was still coming to terms with his death and just being here in general. 

You tried your best to get noticed, but it was impossible- there were too many people. You try again, " _Ernesto!_ "

Finally, he looks in your direction, _directly_ at you. If you still had it, your heart would have skipped a beat. But he does nothing, and keeps walking. Your non-existent heart sinks as you slowly, carefully, back out of the crowd. What were you expecting? Of course he wouldn't have recognized you. So why were you so disappointed? It wasn't like he actually cared about you. Or maybe he did.  _If he really cared about me, then why did he become so forceful with me that night?_

You despised that feeling of false hope. With a sigh, you turn on your heel and head back to where you had been staying these past three years, praying that someone from your familia would soon put a photo of you up on an ofrenda. Seeing you mother, father, Cecilia,  _anyone_ would surely make you feel better. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow these timeskips wowowowow  
> there are gonna be a lot of time skips  
> why?  
> because I'm lazy when it comes to writing lol and I WANNA GET TO THE GOOD STUFF. aka- be prepared for a major timeskip to around the time when Miguel arrived lol


	3. Hoarder

 

**Your life in the land of the dead**

Years went by painfully, painfully slow.

But at least you had Hector by your side. As well as some other friends, your bandmates. You and your group had actually become quite popular, especially in the plaza!- That is, until the stage had been constructed, dedicated to De La Cruz. 

"This is ridiculous!" The lead singer of your band, Azael, grumbled as he stared across the plaza at the stage. It was really nothing special, but word had gone around that Ernesto's new home was nearly finished completion. Since then, you didn't bother trying to contact him- what was the point? He clearly had much to catch up on in regards to fans. He wouldn't even recognize you. You just... you just wanted to ask him if your family was alright, and possibly why they hadn't put your photo up on an ofrenda yet. It had been more than four years! Why didn't they realize you were dead yet?!

The drum player, Chago, huffed, "De La Cruz is just tryna put us smaller musicians out of business, amigo. Thinks he's so big and mighty." Hector, who was laid out across the ledge of a railing lazily, strummed a few random notes on his guitar. "He's like that."

"Well, we can just find a new spot to play in, right?" You suggested and instantly received annoyed looks. Azael shook his head at you, "Where, (yn)? All the other smaller, less recognized musicians are going to flock to all the good spots. You know what, come on. Let's head back to the shantytown and get something to drink." Both Azael and Chago begin to leave, leaving just you and Hector. Hector let out a groan as he sat up and shook out his bones. 

"Hector, you told me that you were Ernesto's 'best friend', right? Why don't you go... rekindle the fire of your old friendship and remind him that other musicians exist, too." You placed a hand on your hip and used another to help Hector from the ledge. Hector sighed, "Chica, you don't think I've tried talking to him? He's always so busy. Besides, it's for the better that we aren't on speaking terms. Who wants a raggedy skeleton like me next to a polished guy like him?" You frowned at him, trailing after the man as he began to head off in the direction of the others. It was quite sad that Hector had simply given up, but you could understand his reasoning... kind of. It seemed like there was something more to it, but Ernesto made it quite clear that he didn't want anything to do with people who weren't famous like him. 

You still couldn't shake off that feeling you got when you thought of him, and wanted desperately to rant to someone about your mixed emotions. He was so, very handsome. But he was also so, very mean. He was so mean to you, so cruel. But maybe he didn't mean it? Maybe he didn't mean to grip your wrists too tightly, leaving them rather bruised from the pressure. Perhaps, it was an accident that he had pinned you to his bed and restricted you from moving. Maybe you had done something to upset him- you  _ shouldn't  _ have yelled at him. Maybe if you hadn't been so  _ stupid _ , you'd be able to see your familia again, and see your little sister… 

Maybe it was really HIS fault- why would you accept to go out with some old man who was notorious for his busy love life? He had been using you for sex, obviously, which was something you were most definitely not comfortable with. No one THAT famous ever bothered to give attention to simple cantina workers like you. It WASN'T your fault that you were never going to see you family again, not for many years at least.

You died of food poisoning. Random, out of the blue, food poisoning. Nothing could have prepared you for your fate. You mentally cursed yourself for your conflicting thoughts and rushed forward to walk side by side with your friend. Perhaps one day you'd tell him about what happened, but not now. Hector obviously didn't want anything to do with Ernesto, and you wanted to respect that.

" So, have you tried crossing the bridge lately?" You asked casually. Hector grinned, "Yep. Two times in the last month."

"You say that as if it's something to be proud of."

Grin turning into a scowl, Hector stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I know. But hey, I think the guards are starting to warm up to me!"

"After how many years, exactly?" You smirk, resulting in a light punch to the arm. "Hey, hey, I'm kidding! I haven't been too successful, either. I haven't been back there in... a while. I'm just praying that someone from the land of the living just gives up and pronounces me dead, like I actually am. Maybe they're just really determined?" After four years of being here, you knew that they were most definitely  _ not  _ determined to find you. "I'm sure the same applies to you, Hector."

"Bah. Imelda has probably cursed me out of the family. I still remember the day I left with Ernesto... She begged me not to leave, (yn). Or, well, threatened me. But after the threats she softened up and accepted my choice. Oh, I just wanted to provide for us, (yn)..." As Hector speaks, he moves to lean against a wall as if it hurt him to walk. "And I couldn't just betray Ernesto..." With saddened eyes, Hector gazes down at you with an expression that only someone who had been living through years of heartbreak could muster. "I made a mistake leaving. And I hate myself for it every single day. I just...  _ cannot  _ see Ernesto, because I know that if I ever see him, I'll just be reminded of those precious moments I was given when I was alive. Coco and Imelda..." 

Listening to Hector was absolutely heart-wrenching; the story of a man who made one choice that cost him everything, even if his death was just bad luck like yours had been. "I'm sorry, Hector." You whisper. "I'm sure they still love you dearly- even if they are mad at you for what happened."

Hector gives a low, humourless chuckle. "Yeah. Maybe. I guess we're in the same boat, huh?"

You shrug, "I guess so." 

The two of you share a few moments of silence before Hector completely ruins the moment with a harsh slap on your back, "Well, chica! Enough of this depressing stuff, eh?! Let's go find the others before Ernesto comes down and starts preaching to the crowd about how beautiful his eyebrows are!" Before you could speak, Hector leads you away and to shantytown to find Azael and Chago. You smile and allow him to drag you off. It was amazing how quickly the man could lighten up, but you were no fool- even though at this very moment he was smiling and laughing, it was obvious that he was still very deeply hurt. And he always would be.

“Hey, Hector.” You begin as you both walk. “Why do people call you ‘chorizo’?”

Hector lets out a long and pained groan, slapping his hand to his face. “Ohhh, (yn), Please don’t tell me that THEY told you…”

“Yeah. Well? Is it true?”

“No! Of course not! Why would I choke on a chorizo, (yn)?!  It was  _ food poisoning! _ And I thought you and I had some mutual respect for each other because of our similar deaths!” Hector exclaims. 

You crack a coy smile. “I suppose so… but there’s really no shame in just admitting the truth. I won’t make fun of you if you really  _ did  _ choke on a chorizo…”

“ _ BUT I DIDN’T!” _

You let out a hoot of laughter at Hector’s flustered reaction, leaving him standing there staring at you with an exasperated look. After a few moments of quiet contemplation however, he softens up with a shake of his head and jogs over to catch up with you.

***

**Ernesto's Perspective of his new life- A little while after the previous paragraphs...**

He was practically a God.

With his new home built on the tallest and most breathtaking skyscraper in all of the land of the dead, he was certainly not a force to be reckoned with. He had an entire squad of security guards ready to risk their femurs for him! He was so influential, in fact, that they had named certain places after him- the Plaza De La Cruz, for instance. Not that he even went there anymore. That place was for the low-lifes, people he didn’t particularly care too much about. No, he spent most of his time conversing with his fans at his home. He never had a reason to leave.

If he was going to be spending the rest of time down here, what better way to spend it than to party?

Ernesto's parties became the most popular ones around, where only the elite could attend by invitation.

At these parties, he had numerous performers show off their skills. But of course, Ernesto was the real reason everyone was there, so his performances were the best and most important.

Seated in a private living room, Ernesto and a few other very notable people talked amongst themselves, playing poker and boasting about their fame.

Ernesto was seated on a couch. He chuckles as the young woman who sat across his lap squirms around in a very playful manner, earning a few lewd remarks from two other male actors lounging next to him, each with their own woman.

"Now, now, mi pequeña flor. That’s no way to behave when you’re in the presence of such important men.” Ernesto chided, like a father speaking to a misbehaving child. 

“I’m sorry, Senor,” The young woman gasps. “It’s just, I promised my friend I’d go meet her soon!”

“Oh. How disappointing. And here I was, thinking you were enjoying you time here with me…” Ernesto releases the woman from his grip and rests his elbow on the arm of the couch. 

“O-oh! Senor, I was!”

Ernesto ignores her, and continues speaking as if her words were meaningless to him. “Perhaps I should have taken that other lady you were with.” He hums.  “I’m sure  _ she  _ would be more grateful.” 

“No! I… oh, well, my friend can wait, Senor. I’m perfectly happy here.” The young woman eases back into his lap nervously and he gives her a pleased smile. 

Women were so very frail in the mind. And Ernesto loved it, this feeling of power he got when the woman would begin doubting herself in his presence, awaiting for his correction or praise. 

Of course, he wasn’t always like this. Perhaps he was only like this when  _ he  _ was in the presence of other powerful performers. It was so easy to seem like a weak link, and become forgotten by the people who once adored you in exchange for someone more shiny and new.

He depended on the love of his fans, and the only way he could keep this love and worship was if he constantly proved how fantastic he was. Oh, it was such a hard and tiring struggle, constantly slaving away to please his fans... And his parties did just that when  _ he  _ and only he was the center of attention.

An hour or two goes by, and Ernesto finally releases the woman, allowing her to return back to the public (she leaves quite briskly, which upsets Ernesto somewhat- did she really not like him?). He bids farewell to his friends and exits the room, ordering the guard who stood outside to make sure the rest of the guests were well taken care of. 

Ernesto whistles a tune as strolls down a cold and dark hallway, dimly lit by the lights in the ceiling. The left side of the hall is lined with windows that looked out across the vibrant city, which did a much better job of illuminating the area. His old movie posters had been framed and placed along the length of the walls, and he smiles to himself as he passes by. 

Ernesto pauses by a particular image, one advertising a very popular movie of his where he and a female actress played the roles of forbidden lovers. This movie was a particular favourite of his, because he got to experience what it was like to really  _ love  _ someone. Of course, he and the actress weren’t in love with each other in real life… but when they were on set, it was everything he had ever dreamed of. 

Although it didn’t seem like it, Ernesto  _ really  _ did wish he had settled down and found a wife to love and cherish. But whenever he did, whenever he met a woman who seemed absolutely flawless, he’d wake up the next morning and move on, out of fear that he’d only screw things up. Out of fear that maybe she’d figure out the things he’d done, resulting in him panicking and acting in the heat of the moment and ultimately do something he’d regret. He was  _ terrified  _ of commitment, ever since Hector… Ernesto squeezes his eyes shut and turns away from the poster. He couldn’t bear the thought of the awful things he’d done, concealing them behind a facade of a man who was egocentric, proud and charming. 

The man heads to a beautiful room which he had dedicated to storing all of the gifts people from the land of the living had left for him- the collection was starting to grow as each day passed by. 

At first glance, one would simply assume Ernesto was a hoarder (which was indeed true!), but unfortunately the reality of it was much more... human.

Insecurities ran deep within his bones. The only way he could feel  _ better  _ about himself was constant validation that he was loved and respected despite what he had done in the past. So this room, this magnificent room had been dedicated to storing all the gifts his unknowing fans left for him. This room was Ernesto De La Cruz’s sanctuary where he could go for reassurance that he was  _ okay. _

As he walks, the man’s hands are clasped behind his back, eyes glued to the ever-growing piles of junk he really had no use for. But it was good junk. He smiles to himself and moves to exit the room and returns to his awaiting guests.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow what an exceptionally boring chapter. I promise the next will be more interesting- I just wanted to leave this one as it was to give some explanation for Ernesto's motives or whatever, it would feel too messy for me with more stuff. ah yes time skips... my favourite. sorry if they're confusing lol.  
> also thanks SO much to those giving me ideas for the story! I love them and they really help because I am NOT organized with this story! if you have anymore advice feel free to tell me in the comments :D


	4. Chorizo

You and Hector became known as “that one duo who try too hard” in Shantytown. Why? Well, technically it was Hector’s fault- he’d always be the one to drag you to the bridge with more and more elaborate costumes. You were no fool, and neither was Hector. They wouldn’t work. But unlike before, when you were new and full despair that you’d never see your familia again… you now realized how important it was to try and not give up.

You could thank Hector for that encouragement. 

It was always him, always Hector who would come to you little apartment holding up some sort of costume for you to put on. “Today, we’re going to be a couple who lost both of their femurs yesterday when crossing the bridge!” You’d raise a brow and slowly take the costume. 

It was fun, almost like a game. A game that would always end up with the both of you getting escorted from the property by angry guards. 

Hector’s enthusiasm originated from dreams of seeing his wife and daughter again. Frequently, when the both of you would be sitting atop the ledge of a balcony with a view of the city, he’d muse things like, “I wonder how big Coco is. Maybe she’s as tall as me! Or as short as Imelda… hehehe.” 

“I don’t think anyone is as tall as you, Hector. You’re like a walking stick.” You giggled. 

“Ai! Rude, chica! I am a  _ handsome  _ walking stick, thank you very much! You’re just tiny. Like a little mouse!” 

Knowing that Hector still thought of his familia so fondly warmed your heart if you had one, and even inspired you to start fantasizing:

What did Cecilia look like by now? She’d probably be past adulthood by now, but you weren’t sure. You imagined her being an artist- oh, how she loved to paint. 

Had anyone died yet? Because you had no clue, which was rather disappointing. Each night you’d remind yourself of how lovely it would be when finally, your mama and papa would come join you and welcome you into their arms, followed by Cecilia. They’d then ask you what happened and you’d explain everything, and they would understand and forgive you.

But, there was only one issue with that fantasy…

You  _ needed  _ someone to put your photo up. Only a few years ago did you learn of how terrifying the final death was. If you were simply forgotten by people in the land of the living, you were a goner! You’d glance down at your hands. Where they were once a pristine pearly white colour, they were now tinged with dirt. Your entire body was like this, and bone-polisher was extremely hard to come by in Shantytown. Luckily, you were very good at keeping your hair neat and styled, so that would suffice for the dirtiness of your bones. However, you weren’t hardly as bad as Hector was.

Some people, the “lucky ones” as Hector called them, would jeer and point whenever you and your bandmates would walk through populous areas of the land of the dead. Ladies would stare at your dress, which was dull and worn out by age with frayed ends. Men would scoff at Hector’s torn jacket and bare feet. You wouldn’t dare meet their judging gazes and simply kept yourself fixated on the ground, but an arm would wrap around your shoulders. Hector’s smile fueled you with the confidence you needed to raise your head and continue on with your way. 

He taught you how important it was to never give up on your dreams and to ignore people's judging remarks. 

Many more years (or was it just a few? You really had no clue at this point) passed with no luck on crossing the bridge. At this point, it was just safe to say that your familia had completely cut you out of their life. Even Cecilia, it seemed. Hector’s determination had begun to falter as well. “Oh, (yn), maybe… maybe they’re just taking so long because they haven’t had the time.” Hector reassured. Your response to this would always be a sigh.

One day, when you, Hector and Chago were sitting around underneath a bridge practicing a song, Azael came running towards you and the others. “LOOK!” He exclaimed, his voice bouncing off of the cobblestone walls. 

“What is it, Azael?” Chago asked, squinting up at the man. Azael rummaged through his pocket and pulled out a small, fancily decorated paper. A ticket, of sorts. “I got an invitation to De La Cruz’s upcoming fiesta tomorrow night!” He held out the ticket. Hector groaned and went back to tuning his guitar. 

This spiked your interest. You hadn’t really bothered much about Ernesto… at all recently. Sure, you knew he was still extremely popular here. But spending time with your friends was more important than stressing over him, right? 

“What?! How?” Chago stood up and stared at the invitation, as if trying to see if it were real or not.

“Arrived in the mail. I guess he realized the importance of smaller musicians in the musical community.”

Everyone is silent before laughing in usion. That was bullshit! 

“Well, guess what? Just to shoot him in his ego, I’m not going to go!” Azael announces proudly (as if it really mattered), and Chago claps him on his back. Hector seems pleased with this as well. As Azael prepares to rip the ticket in two, you reach out a hand. “Wait!”

Azael looks down at you with surprise and allows you to take it from his grip. “What’s wrong, (yn)?”

“I… I want to go.” 

“...you what?”

Your friends stare at you with confused looks, and Hector especially looks hurt. You knew how he felt about Ernesto! But you  _ needed  _ closure from De La Cruz. You needed to know what he did after you died and why your familia hadn’t acknowledged you yet. And you  _ needed  _ to know why the man was so forceful with you! This was, quite honestly, your only chance to get near him. And although Hector wasn’t on great terms with Ernesto, you could maybe even take this as a chance to remind the famous musician of his former friend and mend the broken relationship they had. That’s what good friends do, right? 

“I want to go. You guys already know I went on a date with him before I died. He must have the answers to what happened afterward to make mi familia… resent me.” You hold the ticket up close to your ribcage. “Please understand. I won’t even stay the entire night!”

Azael looks to the two other men and shakes his head. “(Yn). You don’t need our permission to go find out what happened after your death. Go ahead, take it.”

“Just be sure to give De La Cruz a friendly threat on behalf of us and the rest of the small-musician community!” Chago chimes in. 

You let out a breathy laugh and give both of them a hug, before slowly turning to Hector who simply stared at you with a solemn expression. After a few moments, he gives you a small smile. “Well, if you’re going to go to a fancy party, you’re going to need a fancy dress, eh? I know just the place to go. I’ll take you there tomorrow.”

**

Frida Kahlo’s studio was huge. (Hector snuck you in there in quite possibly the most sketchy way possible, climbing up retractable stairs hidden in an alley) You thought that Ernesto may be there, perhaps rehearsing something, but Hector suggested that he probably didn’t bother rehearsing at all.

“There’s a seamstress here, Ceci, who I’ve… borrowed most of the costumes we’ve used from. Emphasis on the borrow, heheh…”

“ _ HEY! _ ” A voice shouts from behind you. Hector lets out a nervous laugh as he slowly turns around. “Ceci! Hola! What a pleasant surprise to see you here!”

“Don’t give me that, Hector. WHERE is my Frida Kahlo dress?!” The woman growls. You blink as you watch the pair bicker, with Hector ultimately convincing her that he’d give them back the following day. “So, um, I need another favour. My friend here, (yn), is going to Ernesto De La Cruz’s party tonight! And she really needs something nice to wear! Just look at her. Poor thing has been wearing that same dress for a while now.” 

You glare at Hector for his poor choice of words before casting a polite smile to Ceci. “I’d really appreciate it if you could lend me something to wear. Unlike Hector, I  _ promise  _ to give it back. I just can’t wear something like this to such a big celebration…”

Ceci eyes you for a few seconds, looks at Hector, and then back at you, and then at your current dress. “...alright. Know that I am ONLY accepting you because you look absolutely horrendous in that dress. I’ll be right back, I think I know just what to give you…” The woman turns sharply and heads off in the direction of racks of many clothes. 

Hector flashed you an apologetic look and before he can speak, yet  _ another _ voice erupts from behind you. “Chorizo!” 

Who knew Hector was so popular?

Sitting by a window was a stubby looking man along with some other people all with instruments. Hector grunts, “I thought I told you to stop calling me that, Gustavo. What is this now, the fifth time?”

The musicians laugh. “Chica, did he ever tell you how he died?!” 

“...y...yes?” You stutter. 

“He  _ choked on a chorizo! _ ” Once again, Gustavo and the musicians laugh. You couldn’t help but snicker quietly, but instantly shut up as Hector glares down at you. “I did not choke, it was food poisoning!  **Big** difference! SHE died of the same thing while she was on a DATE!” He points a finger to you. 

Gustavo and the musicians stop laughing as if they were processing what he had just said. “So, you’re saying... she choked on a DIFFERENT kind of chorizo, ehhh?” Once again, they lose their minds. Hector laughs as well, and this time, he is quickly silenced by the deathly look you shot him. “Sleep with your eyes open tonight.” You brush past him to return to Ceci.

“Jokes on you, I can’t sleep!” 

You didn’t bother trying to explain to him that it was a figure of speech. As you leave, you can hear Hector tell off the musicians, who only mocked him some more. 

You approach Ceci, who holds out a dress for you. It was red, with a black ombre effect towards the bottom. It was cinched at the waist with a black, lacy ribbon while the sleeves were short and made with a much thinner, see through fabric. She handed you the garment and ushered you to a changing room. “Try not to party too hard in this. The fabric is quite delicate, so take extra caution. And maybe put a better shade of lipstick on.”

You didn’t particularly care about anything except looking less raggedy like before. “Alright, I’ll do that,” you agree as Ceci ties the ribbon in the back.

She leads you to a podium which faced a few mirrors, and you finally got to see yourself. Ever since you died, you never really got a chance to wear something so nice, unlike when you were alive. Ceci stands behind you with pride as she marvels her creation. Hector appears as well, a smile upon his visage as he looked at you through the mirror. “A true Cinderella, eh?”

“Mhm. Well. Use it wisely, (yn). And… keep it. It suits you.” Ceci winks, and before you could even utter words of thanks, she leaves. 

“I have a feeling she likes you more than me…”

“Gracias, Hector. For everything.” You turned to face your friend whose arms were crossed over his ribcage. He eyed you up and down, before saying, “Yep. If this doesn’t attract Ernesto’s attention, nothing will. You look very pretty, (yn).” He flashes you a genuine smile. 

You return this smile with one of your own before looking back at yourself in the mirror. You hadn’t felt this… clean. This beautiful in… years. It brought back distant memories of being at home, trying on your mother’s many dresses with Cecilia and pretending you were both princesses. Princesses who worked in a cantina, of course. Hector approaches you from behind, holding something in his hand. Through the mirror you could see it was a rose, whose petals were a deep red colour. 

“Oh, Hector,” You gasp. “It’s beautiful.”

“I remember, all those years ago when I first met you, you had a flower in your hair. So I found you this. I picked it from someone’s garden!” He reaches upwards and fits the rose right into your hair as he speaks. “There.  _ Now  _ you’re ready to be the bell of the ball. You look just like the lucky ones!” 

He helps you step off of the podium and you steal one last glance in the mirror at yourself. Yes. You  _ did  _ look beautiful. 

“Hey, hey, chica, look at me,” Hector snaps his fingers in front of your face which causes you to blink and stare up at him. “What?”

“Just… uh… be careful, okay?” 

“I can handle myself, Hector.” You place a hand on your hip.

“Uh-huh, clearly you did an AMAZING job of ‘handling yourself’ before you literally DIED after a date with that man.” 

“It was food poisoni-”

Hector chuckled and pats your shoulder, “I know, I know. I’m just looking out for you. Now, if you’re going to be busy getting into that party, I’m going to try and convince the security guards at the bridge that I lost my son.” Turning on his heels, he begins to whistle and stroll away, giving Ceci a thank you as he leaves. 

_ Good luck with that.  _ You thought with a roll of your eyes and a smile. You pick up your skirts and exit the room. In order to get to Ernesto’s place, You’d have to take a train to the base of the skyscraper (walking there would take too long), and a lift up to the top where the actual party was. 

You head to the train station nervously. You were nervous for two reasons; first of all, you were going to see Ernesto again. You needed to figure out  _ how  _ you were going to word you many questions. Secondly… you realized that… people weren’t giving you disapproving stares. Instead, what were once looks of judgement were now looks of awe. Some people didn’t even pay you any attention, whereas before they would! It was fascinating, really, how your looks could either make or break the way people saw you. Personality was unimportant. This thought upset you as you climbed into a train cart and sat down by a window. Ernesto’s party would most likely be  _ full  _ of fake people with fake smiles, trying to look the most expensive and important. You simply needed to go in, find and interrogate Ernesto, and leave. After that… you’d  _ finally  _ have closure, after all these years of not knowing that happened next. Surely, Ernesto spoke to your familia after what happened, right?

The train begins to slow to a stop at a station that was very busy- people in all sorts of fancy clothing who were clearly all headed up to Ernesto’s party as well.  _ Damn it.  _ You think. This was going to be way harder than you thought.

You exit the train and head to what looked like a line-up waiting to board a shuttle that lead up to the party. At the front of the line was a security guard, checking everyone, their invitations, and a list. 

Your name would  _ not  _ be on that list. You completely forgot! Mentally cursing yourself, you stare down at the invitation. Well, it had no name on it. And you could probably just claim to be Azael’s wife, taking his place because he fell… ill?

You were getting closer and closer to the front.

“Excuse me, senora?” A voice asks from behind you. You crane your head around to see a woman and a man. “I couldn’t help but notice what a beautiful dress you have… which designer made it?”

“The… er…” Ceci was a designer, so you could just say her, right? But… what was her last name? “...A friend of mine. She’s very talented. Alas, she prefers to be kept anonymous.” That seemed to be a sufficient answer, considering the man and woman nodded and smiled. 

Slowly turning back to face the front, you noticed that there was only one more person left before you. Panic started to bubble within your chest as you fiddled with the invitation unknowingly. If you weren’t allowed in, you’d quite possibly never have this chance again. 

You step up to the guard with a nervous smile and hand him the invitation. 

“Name?” He asked. 

“Uh… it’s a funny story, you see, my dearest husband, Azael Alvarez,  _ lost  _ his arm! And he didn’t dare want to let Ernesto De La Cruz see him in such a weak state. So he gave me his ticket!” You bat your eyelashes and swish your lavish skirts around as you speak. The guard’s face, however, is unreadable so it was hard to tell if he was even buying it. 

“...go ahead, miss.” He finally speaks.

You opened your mouth to question him, but decided against it and quickly hurried along to the shuttle. “Gracias!”

So it was that easy to get in? If you had known that, you’d have tried many years ago! 

The shuttle takes you and the others inside it up and up and up. You could feel anxiety rising once again inside you. Oh, you felt so out of place amongst all these people. Yet, they saw you as one of them, so it was best to play along with it. 

Finally, the shuttle reaches the top and everyone exits, making their way inside of the building. Loud music blares from all directions. There were some performers as well, entertaining some crowds with tricks, as well as interesting alebrijes strolling around with platters of food on their backs. Your forehead creases as you watch all that was going on before you, before hurrying inside to a giant room with a pool in the middle.The party hadn’t even started yet and it seems like all of the land of the dead was here! 

Impatiently, you stand by a set of stairs that would lead down to the main floor. The people who walk by flash you smiles and polite ‘hellos’, but all you could do in return was awkwardly nod. The space was so… tight. You felt extremely claustrophobic. 

And then he saunters in.

Ernesto De La Cruz, the very last person you had ever seen before your unfortunate demise, walks into the hall wearing his signature light beige mariachi suit, grinning and waving to the people who watched him excitedly like he was a God. And before you could even take a step forward, the man was sucked into the crowd, already beginning conversations with people.

You reckoned the whole night would be like this. So, with a deep breath, you advanced forwards down the steps, skirts lifted above your knees as you hurried down to catch up with Ernesto.

“Ernesto!” You yelled. Not even a glance back. “ _ Ernesto! _ ” You try again. This time, a few people around you paused to give you a funny look.

It seems you caught his attention, too.

Slowly, Ernesto turns around to see who was shouting his name, a kind smile spread across his face as he did so.

And then, he saw  _ you. _

That fond smile disappeared and so did that aura of confidence he was constantly radiating. It was as if everything had stopped around the both of you. Ernesto takes a step back, as if he were ready to turn around and leave like he hadn’t seen anything, but you tried one more time, “ _ Ernesto, I need to talk to you about that night!” _

Carefully, the man lets out a chuckle towards the people who stood around him and fully turns to face you.

“Goodness, (yn)! I was beginning to think I’d never see you again!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the rest of the story should hooopefully follow a constant time unlike before where there were jumps but idk lol. also thanks so much to those giving me inspiration! I'll try t work in those ideas into this story :D so please, if you have anymore advice, feel free to drop some below, id be so happy! i'm kind of stuck on... *what* I want Ernesto to do with reader in a future chapter lol.  
> thank you all for reading this mess of a story!

**Author's Note:**

> i'd really like some ideas on how yours and ernesto's confrontation will go. it'll probably be when years have passed and he's a pretty big thing in the LOTD. any advice would help!


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